July 4, 1917 Trouble with the Sketches

July 4, 1917

Today is Independence Day – for the Americans, that is. The Blechers decided to celebrate in full patriotic glory and in contravention with the Park and Provincial regulations – flying the American Flag above the Red Ensign. The Blechers have done this before. Regulations state that flags of other countries can’t fly above the Canadian or Ontario Red Ensign. But that was the case right now. It was most likely Martin Blecher Jr.’s doing. He liked to instigate conflict for the sake of it. Mark Robinson had warned him of an earlier infraction in the spring. Another time when Martin had done it, I obliged him by removing the flag in the middle of the night and put it in the cage of his pet groundhog. As for today, the flying of the American flag flying could be sign of patriotism or an instigation for yet another conflict. I suspected the latter. It also wouldn’t surprise me that Louisa, Martin Jr.’s mother would make a proclamation that the Blecher leasehold was U.S. territory and U.S. laws and justice would be applied. For the Blechers, the saying goes, “Like Mother, Like Son.” Martin Sr. and Bessie are pleasant, it’s the mother and son that always seem to be the problem.

Someone must have told Mark Robinson about the flag (it wasn’t me) because he wandered down in the morning. That wasn’t part of his usual routine. I saw him coming as I was sitting on the verandah. I was fixing a shirt of mine. I also had to darn a couple of holes in my socks. I preferred doing this type of work outside because the light’s better out. From my vantage point I could see Mark check the Trainor cottage and then walk over to the Blechers. There was brief yelling and screaming (Martin Jr. and/or Louisa) and once that subside, Mark reappeared into view. He walked up the path and stepped up onto the verandah.

“Can you believe those folks?” Mark shook his head. He took off his hat, wiped his brow and sat down beside me. The air was oppressive today. It wasn’t hot, but the humidity was at saturation that you couldn’t do anything without breaking into sweat. It was these days, when your clothes hung on you like a damp washcloth and your hair felt like a greased rope. There wasn’t anything you could do about it except endure it. At the camp site you have option of stripping down to your drawers, but the unwritten lodge decorum dictates being fully-clothing and long-sleeve when there are women around. Men are also supposed to wear a tie at all times. I’m glad that Shannon enforce that point of the dress code, otherwise I would have been gone long ago.

“Mark, I’ll take care of the flag tonight,” I said.

“Tom, don’t you be taking the law into your own hands!” Mark replied, “If it’s still there tomorrow, I’ll write a note to Bartlett. He’ll scare them by saying they’re violating the terms of their leasehold.” That was the end of the flag discussion.

“What were you checking up on at the Trainor cottage?”

“Nothing much,” Mark said. “I heard the Trainors haven’t been up as much as regularly as they normally are. Just checking to see if anything’s amiss. Say, Tom, your sketches are still there.”

“Indeed, they are. I haven’t looked at them since Victoria Day. Are they still on the porch?” I asked.

“No, they’re just inside the front door. What are you going to do with them? Aren’t you worried they’ll be stolen?”

“Given the circumstances, they’re in the safest place right now. If I had them at the lodge, I probably would have thrown them in the fire or Shannon would have lifted a few to sell to his guests.”

“OK, Tom, but you’d better do something soon.” Mark had a worried look. He was worried I’d lose them.

“I might send the lot down to Toronto and Dr. MacCallum to deal with them,” I replied. Normally I’d take them back with me in the Fall, but I wasn’t going back to Toronto. Mark didn’t know this part of the plan yet. Nor did he know I was leaving within days.

I looked directly at Mark, “I need you to do a favour for me. If circumstances don’t permit, can you make sure they get sent to Toronto?”

“I’m not sure I can do that, Tom.” Mark lowered his eyes and took a draw from his pipe. “Right now they’re in the possession of the Trainors. Wouldn’t be right for me to go in and take them.”

I realized I might have gone too far with the request, “No worries, Mark. Things will sort themselves out. I’m going away for a few days fishing trip. Just keep an eye on Shannon.”

“That I can do Tom,” Mark smiled. He knew what Shannon could do in the dishonourable department. “I’ll keep your back. How’s the Big Trout up at Joe Lake Dam? Is he still smarter than you?”

I smiled, “Well let’s find out.” I had my gear on the verandah and was planning to go up there shortly. So I grabbed it and Mark and I walked up together and I fished for a couple of hours but with no luck. So the Big Trout is still smarter than me – for today, that is.

While I was fishing, I was watching the clouds – big clouds. The humidity of the day was being drawn up by the heat, forming huge clouds. They were big enough to hid a flotilla of Zeppelins. Judging the the colours of the clouds, it was a sure thing that it would rain like the Dickens tonight. I’ll stay at the lodge again tonight because Shannon has pretty much made me paid for my stay. I was also thinking of what to do with the sketches. I’m glad I asked Mark to take care of them on my behalf, if need be. I couldn’t trust Shannon and I certainly couldn’t expect the Trainors to honour any of my wishes, especially if I was gone with Winnie. Everyone respected Mark, and he was a Park authority. If things ever turned sour, I knew I could rely on Mark to settle things for me the fairest way possible.

The clouds cleared later in the evening and the full moon shone through. It reminded me of a sketch I did in 1915. But I was in no mood to make a new sketch. I’m trying to get rid of my old ones.